


Still Discovering

by AbbyWritesTrash



Series: The Android's Guide to Self Discovery [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Masturbation, M/M, Masturbation, Self-Discovery, Self-Indulgent, Selfcest (ish), Wanting To Fuck (the updated version of) Yourself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 13:13:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15864324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbbyWritesTrash/pseuds/AbbyWritesTrash
Summary: 'I can be anything you want me to be.'Connor thinking about Nines while he fucks himself. That's it. That's the plot. Sue me.





	Still Discovering

Connor masturbates on a regular basis. It elevates his mood, calms and de-stresses him and makes his mind more active and concentrated. It’s blissful every time, a rushing warmth and a flood of fake endorphins, and it suddenly makes sense as to why humans crave the feeling near-constantly. He has encountered a slight problem, though. 

Connor tilts his head as he watches the two men on the large screen in front of him. He’s aroused, but he isn’t watching pornography again to reach orgasm this time, he’s come to rely on his own sensory memories instead. He’s comfortable with the idea of homosexuality now, and finds himself favouring male anatomy and aesthetic over female, but that much had been evident by his second exploratory session. He’s even more comfortable with the idea that a particular android seems to be his main point of attraction in general, and he calls on the subtle eye contact they share more and more often, now that they’re both working at DPD. They don’t talk frequently, and there’s something strange about wanting to engage in intercourse with someone who looks eerily similar to yourself, but there’s an undeniable attraction - and while they may look similar, their personalities are polar opposite. RK900 is stronger,  _ smarter _ , and while it makes Connor’s stomach twist with jealousy, it’s an undeniably attractive feeling, too. 

Connor is learning to trust himself more now - he lets himself make flirty comments and gets RK900 glasses of iced thirium just to watch his brow raise in suspicion. It’s a fun game to play, and one that Connor isn’t willing to rush. 

Natural progression had been hard to grasp at first, but slowly, Connor is learning to let things run their course, enjoying lingering gazes and heightened heart rates from simple touches. Connor is more than content to sit by and let things happen between RK900 and himself, but it doesn’t stop his curiosity. Nothing could  _ ever  _ stop Connor’s curiosity. 

Connor watches the human being fucked roll his eyes back, his chest heaving as he sucks air into his lungs and bites into his bottom lip. Connor had thought he’d been in pain at first, he’d been whimpering in the same way that Sumo sometimes did when he was being ignored, and his face and body had been wound tight. Connor couldn’t analyse the human through a screen, they were merely a recording after all, but when the camera had panned down, it became evident that the noises weren’t in reaction to pain, but to pleasure and frustration instead. 

And the pleasure looked immense, their body arching and writhing against the bedsheets as the human above him fucked into him with hard, quickening thrusts. The male beneath didn’t touch himself, but his cock was still erect and flushed, a dark red at the tip with precome already beading. 

It made Connor wonder what role he’d prefer to take between the two. 

Both seemed appealing for different reasons. Connor’s blue blood thrummed at the idea of being taken care of, having RK900 pressing inside of him, praising his body and encouraging him to react openly. He wonders if two androids engaging in the act would be similar, or if their competitive streak would follow through to the bedroom, too. RK900 is known for being relentless, unyielding, and if that thought doesn’t send an _ electric shock _ down Connor’s spine, nothing else ever would. Connor  _ wants  _ that, wants his undivided attention, his focus and all of his infinite energy. 

But Connor also wants to watch RK900 fall apart beneath him. He’s aware now of the pleasure signals his cock can give, and pressing into something tight and warm makes Connor feel  _ fuzzy _ . When he thinks about pressing into RK900, his cock twitches at the idea, and Connor lazily lets one of his hands hold his length, not pumping or stroking, but simply feeling his own arousal at the idea. Connor wishes that he could have them both, a tight and slick heat around his cock and something filling him, something to make his mind work less and less as the pleasure intensifies. 

Connor looks down his body. He supposes that, if he were inclined to try it, he  _ does _ have two hands and is ambidextrous… 

Once the thought enters his mind, there's no stopping it. 

Connor turns off the tv with a blink, and looks down at his own body much like he had the first time he’d been in this situation. He isn’t wearing pyjama pants this time, but a shirt several sizes too large graces his form - it’s comfortable, a feeling Connor has come to enjoy very much. 

Connor doesn’t stumble through warming himself up anymore, and heads directly for his cock with one hand and the sensitive panel of his inner thigh with the other. His fingers knead the artificial flesh there as he strokes himself lightly, his palm grazing the underside of his shaft and his fingers smoothing over the head on each upstroke, index finger rubbing the ridge and forcing his body to arch and relax in warming waves. 

He hadn’t chosen to sit in his usual spot today, the black lavish sofa remaining untouched with it’s pillows placed with precision. Instead he favoured the matching armchair, swallowing his small frame and allowing him to sink into the backrest. Connor lets out a soft sigh and grips himself tighter, focusing his strokes to the base of his cock, pulsing his hand as the other grips into the sculpted muscle of his thigh. His hips cant to the movement in jerky little thrusts and he makes a soft sound on every artificial exhale. Connor shifts the hand on his thigh upward and spreads his legs. 

Connor’s fingers smooth over the connecting skin between his hip and his thigh, nails digging into sensitive spots before he moves to his perineum. Lightly, he strokes the area before pressing harder and letting his middle finger slip lower, grazing his hole. It’s calculated, Connor is still working on that, but as he continues to stroke his cock with his other hand, he relaxes into the touch, fluctuating the pressure before he attempts to push a finger inside. 

The intrusion elicits an automatic response from his body, lubricant slicking Connor from the inside. He gasps at the feeling before letting his finger slip inside, becoming enveloped with an unexplainably tight warmth. He’s aware of his internal temperature rising, a warning even popping up to let him know, but it’s so fascinating, feeling his usually cold body reacting with warmth. His fingertips are still cool, but the temperature difference is only adding to the sensation, and with a shaking hold on his cock, Connor presses inside and pulls back out, curling his finger inside of himself. 

It feels odd, but the fullness makes Connor slip his eyes closed and his mouth tip open. He hadn’t expected it to feel like this - hadn’t expected expected the tight warmth to feel so enticing and the idea of something like this, the same feeling encircling his cock, makes Connor whine with want. Connor pushes back onto his finger, clenching and relaxing his internal muscles as he rocks into the sensation. There isn’t the same spark he feels when he touches his cock, but it’s a pleasurable feeling nonetheless, so he slips a second finger beside his first as he pulls out and presses them back in together. 

It’s  _ more, fuller, deeper, better. _ It makes Connor’s back arch against the back of the chair and a choked-off moan force its way out of his lips, his hand suddenly beginning to move once again on his cock, searching out as many pleasures as he can find at once. With something inside of himself, Connor’s cock feels more sensitive, his nerve sensors sending shocks all the way up and down his artificial spine, the internal metals all conducting and reacting with each other. He feels the spark in his fingertips, in the tips of his toes, even in his tongue, and it races around his circuitry, moving almost as quickly as his blue-blood pumps. 

Connor thinks about fingers other than his own. He thinks about larger, smoother fingers, unrelenting and cool to the touch. He thinks about sharp, but curious blue eyes watching him, judging him for giving into _ human means of pleasure _ \- like RK900 would be any better, like he wouldn’t react in the same way to the sensation, writhing and moaning as Connor fucked into him-

_ Isn’t that a thought? _

Connor pushes himself harder, works his fingers into himself with more of a fluid, messy motion as his other hand works over his cock. He’s panting, trying to help his internal temperature drop as he continues to abuse his own systems capabilities. Each thrust of his fingers pushes a guttural moan past his lips until his hips are stuttering, his artificial muscles tensing and almost  _ tearing  _ under the pressure. He’s drawn tight, gasping, and then relief finally,  _ finally _ , surges through him, his body jolting as he finally comes. He covers his abdomen, his orgasm stronger than previous ones, and Connor’s vision blurs temporarily. 

He isn’t worried about the blurring, or the uncomfortable sensation of his usually taut muscles feeling lax and looser somehow. Connor just lets the rush of warmth run over him, and relaxes into the armchair. Maybe it would be good to make a plan. 

Maybe. 


End file.
